Healing words

Luong Ung confesses that a diary kept her sane as a teenager. She filled page upon page with the thoughts that had long been swimming around her head. Such an outpouring of hatred and pain was cathartic and eventually evolved into a bestseller.

Her childhood was scarred by the murderous Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge - Ung's mother, father and two sisters perished; she and three siblings survived in merciless conditions. It made her adolescence in white, middle-class America almost surreal. But she didn't allow fatalistic emotions to consume her.

Two years ago, Ung published First They Killed My Father. A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers, a harrowing, confronting account of her bid for survival and her family's fate. She was five when the genocide began.

The book has since been translated into 12 languages and is on the Victorian English curriculum. Last week, Ung spoke passionately during a series of lectures organised by the Victorian Association for the Teaching of English. Wiser and happier at 32, it's easier for her to talk.

"The diary became the skeleton of the book," explains Ung. "It was undisciplined writing, but it allowed me to cry. I didn't have to tell anybody; turning it into a book was a matter of activism."");document.write("

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Ung is the spokeswoman for the Vietnam Veterans of America Foundation's Campaign for a Landmine Free World, an international organisation made more famous after Princess Diana lent her support.

"I went back to Cambodia in 1995 and I saw the situation with landmines and it broke my heart. I counted five landmine fields from the airport to my brother and sister's village, and everywhere there were amputees. I couldn't leave without doing something."

Ung has been an activist since college days in Vermont, graduating in 1993 with a political science degree. She was aware of the power of writing, of talking - but her book was not easy to pen. Ung interviewed siblings and relatives who had never spoken about the Khmer Rouge years. It was too painful to contemplate, so everyone remained silent, trying to quash lingering memories.

If silence has been a protector of sorts, why was Ung prepared to tell? "My brother and sister grew up in Khmer culture: you don't talk about it. I grew up in America where people do. I am fluent in both languages, so I can ask questions. In America, we have talk shows, and if you have a problem, you get on national television, and 10 minutes later people applaud, and you're healed!"

Ung wouldn't have written the book without the implicit aim of bringing attention to the appalling condition Cambodia was left in after the war, and the destruction caused by landmines, which "do more than hurt and kill people, they dismantle society".

In one Melbourne lecture, Ung spoke to 1200 year 11 and 12 students - "the future leaders of Australia, of the world, and they need encouragement". It's why every opportunity to speak with youth either at school or rock concerts is seized upon.

"I lived in a culture where I had no voice, no visibility and no power. I saw families die and I couldn't do anything about it. If I were to speak, I would have been killed. If I were seen, I would have been raped. If I were heard, I would have been ostracised or beaten up. I now live in a country where you can speak and not be killed. I want people to know what you say does matter, and you can make a difference."

While freedom of speech is one thing, it's absurd that some American companies produce components used in landmines, and countries such as China, Russia and Vietnam make them. It's profitable. There are between 60 and 80 million landmines world-wide - and 40,000 amputees in Cambodia.

A landmine costs about $5 to make and up to $2000 to remove. They can lie dormant for decades; always deadly. There are an estimated six million in Cambodia and every month about 150 people die or are severely injured.

"After September 11, people talked about germ warfare, but with landmines, there's nothing to philosophise over. They have killed and maimed more people than chemical, biological or nuclear weapons combined ... It is a weapon of mass destruction but it is in slow motion. One person at a time."

Ung's work is humanitarian. She leaves the lobbying to the Vietnam Veterans of America Foundations originator, Bobby Muller. Paralysed on a tour of duty, Muller vowed to improve the lot of victims of war. That included establishing rehabilitation centres in Cambodia for amputees. Since 1991, the organisation has fitted 14,000 people with new limbs and given them more - a chance to resume a normal life.

Ung agrees that words are great, but actions are better. "In America, people are very jaded and think you have to be a president or millionaire or Bill Gates to make a difference. I say start doing something now, and save someone's world. Someone saved mine."

Forced to leave behind her sister Chou and a brother Khouy, Ung's freedom, and that of her oldest brother Meng and his wife, came after eight months in a Thai refugee camp. A family willing to sponsor them meant a new life in America. She was 10 years old. She can't forget and don't ask her to forgive. But Ung's energy is channelled into positive ventures: seeing a child walk again, or a farmer able to work his land and support his family makes it all worthwhile.

"I think my parents would be tremendously proud of my work," she says.

"My father would rather I do this."

First They Killed My Father. A Daughter of Cambodia remembers by Luong Ung is published by HarperCollins. For more information on banning landmines, visit Vietnam Veterans of America website.